


Hands

by ilokheimsins



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sex but not explicit sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal’s hands are always cold and that’s all Will really needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t actually watched Hannibal, but I have kind of seen the dynamic between them, so this isn’t gonna be accurate in when their interactions happened.

Hannibal’s hands are always cold and dry. And they’re soothing, for Will, who needs their touch on his forehead or his wrist to anchor him down when he’s losing his mind.

It starts as a fascination. A small thing that Will notices when he watches Hannibal write or do anything really. The way his fingers always seem to curl just so. And then when Hannibal touches him for the first time, a firm shake of the hands, Will feels like he can stop for a moment and just be. The touch makes him want to close his eyes and let Hannibal take care of everything. But he doesn’t and instead forces himself to stay upright.

When he can’t take it anymore and tears, white hot with shame and anger, threaten to track down his face and his mind refuses to continue, the only thing he can remember is the press of Hannibal’s hand and the way he suddenly felt like he could let go. That he was allowed to cry and that he was allowed to not want to think.

Hannibal won’t say it, won’t tell him, but Will knows it’s what he craves during his heats. When his mind is white with pleasure as Hannibal methodically fucks him into incoherence. He needs the cold that Hannibal’s hands bring when they press against his forehead. It’s the only time he feels like he belongs. So Will gasps, tears prickling at his eyes, and begs for Hannibal to touch him, to press his hands, the oasis in the desert, to his chest, to his cheek, to his head.

***  
Hannibal knows that Will craves his hands, needs them like he needs air. He sees it when he touches a hand to Will’s forehead and everything drains out of the man except the need to submit. He can see it in the way Will unconsciously noses forward to get more Hannibal’s palm against his skin. But these touches are fleeting.

It’s easiest to see when Will is underneath him, flushed pink with arousal, curls sweat slicked and sticking to his forehead. His hands clutch at Hannibal desperately and his eyes are always glazed. His mouth, swollen after too much use, opens to let pleas for Hannibal to touch fall out and Hannibal always obliges.

How can he not?

Not when Will nearly cries in relief when Hannibal presses a hand to his cheek. Hannibal knows that Will knows he loves Hannibal’s hands. But Hannibal is almost certain that Will doesn’t know this side. He’s certain that Will doesn’t know that he turns his head and pushes his nose into the flat of Hannibal’s hands, whimpering and gasping. Doesn’t know that when Hannibal slides his hand down to spread his fingers against Will’s neck, he comes hard, arching and writhing on Hannibal’s cock.


End file.
